


The Joke's On You

by Ben_Solos_Writing_Avenger_203



Category: Arthur Fleck - Fandom, Harley Quinn - Fandom, Joker (2019)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-13
Updated: 2020-04-13
Packaged: 2021-03-02 05:26:50
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,724
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23629975
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ben_Solos_Writing_Avenger_203/pseuds/Ben_Solos_Writing_Avenger_203
Summary: Harley Quinn and the Joker (Arthur's Joker) meet for the first time during a bank robbery.
Relationships: Arthur Fleck & Harleen Quinzel, Arthur Fleck/Harleen Quinzel
Comments: 4
Kudos: 17





	The Joke's On You

“Anything interesting?”, the Joker asked, his bored face hidden behind the wide greasepaint-smile. It had been a few weeks since he’d escaped from Arkham, and he’d thought Gotham City’s criminals would welcome him with open arms as their new king. Well, they hadn’t. No matter how much chaos and destruction he’d caused that fateful night with his performance on the Murray Franklin Show, he was still seen as a freak. A clown. He needed them to show him respect, but respect was like trust: you didn’t simply get it, but you had to earn it. So the Joker had been biding his time, waiting for the coup to finally show the city and it’s mob bosses that he was their equal, and possibly their new leader.

His henchmen exchanged a glance behind their clown-masks, then one of them finally spoke up.

“Maybe. We met a girl in one of our bars, and she was drunk. She told us that she worked at Gotham City Bank, and some very interesting news about their security system. There will be a weak spot next week. She was so drunk, she told us everything, and I bet she won’t even remember about it in the morning.” They snickered. “She was a hottie”, one of them added.

The Joker raised an eyebrow, still a little sceptical. “Tell me everything”, he commanded.

Again, they exchanged a glance. “She had a pretty face and a very tight dress –“

“The alarm system, you idiot, not the girl.”

“Oh. Sorry, Boss. They’re getting a new alarm system next week during opening hours – nobody knows about it except the employees on the counters, obviously – and there will be a time frame when the employees won’t be able to call the cops with those handy little emergency buttons under their desks. Top secret information.”

Gotham City Bank. The biggest bank of the city. Every rich person in Gotham had stored their money there. If somebody was to rob it… that would hurt.

A smirk crossed his painted features and the red greasepaint-smile widened into a real one. “So, that’s it. We’re going to rob a bank.”

***

Harley was leaning casually against one of the huge posey pillars of white marble that flanked the entrance to the Gotham City Bank and looked at her watch again. Ten minutes left. With a last glance, she checked your reflection in the dark window front beside her. Dark sunglasses, an expensive shawl causally flung across her hair and shoulders, high heels matching the tight business dress. Dressed to impress, she thought, smirking at her reflection. Right now, she was the embodiment of a fancy businesswoman. _Good_. It was time. Heels clicking on the marble floor, she sauntered into the interior of Gotham’s most popular bank.

Manipulating the Joker’s plans had been easy – so easy that she still wondered if it had really worked, if the Joker and his henchmen had been stupid enough to trust the words of a ‘drunk’ bank employee without crosschecking the information she’d given them. A week ago, she’d strolled into a bar in the slums which was known as a meeting point of the Joker’s henchmen. It had been one of these filthy places, the ones where the odds of you walking out again of said bar were relatively low. Harley hadn’t exactly strolled, but rather stumbled, letting her short dress expose a little more of her tights as she’d sunken onto a barstool and ordered a drink in a drooling, clearly drunk voice. The men had fallen for it, naturally, flocking around her in a matter of minutes. Like a pride of lions circling a weak antelope, she’d thought.

Harley had twirled a strand of hair around her fingers, given them a sweet smile and they’d fallen for it, practically drooling onto her as she’d lied to them about her boring job at Gotham City Bank.

“I know something I really shouldn’t tell”, she’d giggled drunkenly, while praising herself for her acting skills.

“You can tell us, doll”, one of them had encouraged her with a leering grin. So, she’d told them. Every bit of her made-up story, and they’d soaked in her lies like cheap alcohol. It had taken some self-control to suppress the laughter as she’d stumbled out of the bar later that night, congratulating herself on the performance.

Now, it was time to see if they’d really taken the bait, and – that was the essential detail – if the Joker had taken it.

She sauntered towards one of the counters on her right, heels clicking on the cold marble as if it was a catwalk, the huge sunglasses still on her nose.

“Hello”, she greeted the bank clerk. She’d picked out a young man, counting on him being new and insecure in handling clients. He was. Nervous red blotches crept up his face.

“I want to open my safe-deposit-box.” No please, no friendly smile – just as the upper class of this rotten city would treat those they considered beneath them.

He gave her a tight nod, grabbed some keys and walked around the counter, gesturing towards the back of the huge hall. “Please follow me.”

She did. Another impatient glance at her watch told her there were less than a few minutes left before it was 12 pm, the time she’d named the Joker’s henchmen as the starting point of the time frame in which the emergency-buttons on the bank counters wouldn’t work for the next fifteen minutes while a new system was built in. Only a few minutes until Harley found out if her plan had worked out the way she hoped.

As soon as she’d taken the stairs into the bank’s vaults, steps echoing in the large space, she came to stand in front of iron bars that separated the vault’s entrance from the part with all the safe-deposit-boxes and the main strongroom where banks stored their cash. The bank employee turned towards her before inserting the key and opening the fencing; probably to finally ask for her name. Before he could do so, he was knocked out with a skilful blow to his head. He sunk to the ground in a heap, and Harley grabbed the keys that had fallen to the ground beside him, opening the fencing herself and pulling him into the vault with her.

There were two corridors that led further into the vault: one which would bring her to the strongroom – as the gleaming metallic door to the safe, illuminated by the artificial headlights – told her. The other one would lead to the safe-deposit-boxes, rendering it uninteresting – to Harley, and the Joker (if he showed up) – so that’s where she hid herself and the knocked-out bank employee.

She didn’t have any more time to lose. With a huff, Harley discarded the sunglasses and shawl that were restraining her, pulled out the rope she’d carried in her small designer handbag and tied up the still unconscious man. When she was done, she leaned against the stone wall and listened.

***

Everything was going according to plan. The Joker smiled to himself as he hid in the back of the van they’d parked on a staff entrance of the bank’s building. That’s where his henchmen would emerge with the cash.

The time frame of fifteen minutes was enough for his ten men to carry out the cash, and they’d split. What the Joker wanted wasn’t exactly the cash – that was just a bonus – but the headlines. So, he’d prepared himself for his big entrance when the robbing was done, and the cash stacked away in the van. He’d saunter through the bank, into the empty strongroom, where he’d place a single joker playing card to let Gotham City’s richest know who had robbed them. He was practically shaking with anticipation as he waited, like a child on Christmas Eve.

Seven of his men had currently positioned themselves in the bank’s foyer, keeping in check the employees and clients until the other three were done loading the cash into the van and he’d placed his card in the safe.

***

Everything was going according to plan. Harley couldn’t suppress the grin as she heard heavy footsteps on the stone stairs, the Joker’s henchmen breaking through the fencing and making their way towards the strongroom. She heard the loud bang of the detonation that blasted open the heavy safety door of the strongroom, and she listened to the sounds of bags being filled with rustling cash and carried away. It only took the men a few minutes until one of them called out “We’re done here. Time for the Boss’ entrance.”

Another grin, and she bit her lip, remembering that she hadn’t taken the money yet.

She waited until their steps and voices were gone, then hurried into the strongroom-corridor, placing herself right in front of the burst door and the empty chamber that lay behind, bound the shawl around her mouth like a gag and tied another pair of ropes loosely around her own wrists. Now, it was time to wait for the Joker – and the police, who’d be summoned by the _very_ well-functioning emergency buttons any minute now.

***

It was just as he’d imagined as he sauntered through the showy entrance into the Gotham City Bank, leaving the van loaded with cash behind in the hands of the other three men who’d guard it. His henchmen were still holding everybody in place with their raised guns, and the Joker made his way to the stone steps at the end of the building that would lead him into the now empty strongroom.

***

Steps echoed again through the stone walls, this time it was only one person, she recognized – just as he strolled around the corner.

His green hair was gleaming like poison in the harsh headlights, his face paint looking the same as on TV. The Joker.

His eyes locked with hers for a brief second – possibly trying to discern if she was posing a threat – and he seemed to relax as his gaze fell on the ropes that bound her wrists.

“Not your day, huh?”, he jested and turned his back on her.

A bright smile flashed across Harley’s face as she quickly untied the rope and discarded the shawl into a far corner while she rose in a flourish. She had to make sure he and his henchmen wouldn’t escape before the police showed up, and the best way was a little talk with their boss.

“That’s to be decided”, she replied happily as she casually leaned against the destroyed entrance to the strongroom. The Joker whirled around, staring at her in confusion and surprise.

“I’ve heard a lot about you, _Joker_. Congrats to the performance on TV. And the escape from Arkham – I’ll give you that.”

He didn’t respond, just continued ogling her with a dumbfounded expression even the face paint couldn’t hide. Harley smirked in response.

“A modest look, really”, she continued, her gaze traveling over the red-and-yellow suit and his green hair until it caught on his eyes that were of a startling blue matching the colour of the triangles painted around them. “Maybe next time, you should rob a boutique instead of a bank.”

He finally gave her a wide smile, his crooked teeth were smeared with red face paint, resembling blood. “Maybe I’m sick of being modest”, he replied. “Maybe I want to be seen.”

“That’s not very like a criminal mastermind.”

“Who even are you?”

“I’m a _real_ criminal mastermind.”

“Never heard of you”, he mocked.

“That’s because I’m doing it right.”

He chuckled at her reply. _He’s cute_ , she thought, before she could stop herself. _And really sloppy in the execution of his plans_.

“To what do I owe the honour of meeting you, beautiful stranger?”, he asked with a glint in his eyes.

“You can call me Harley.”

“Harley”, he repeated, his mesmerizing eyes never leaving hers.

“Business, really”, she answered his previous question, “Can’t just let you rob a bank without inviting me. A girl needs money.”

“Unfortunately, I was faster.” He waved at the empty room with a triumphant grin.

She laughed and took a step towards him, into the strongroom.

“Congratulations. The police will be pleased to meet you, I’m sure.”

“The police won’t be here in time. The emergency buttons don’t work right now.”

“Do they now?”, Harley chuckled, slightly bending her head like a curious cat as she examined him. The colours did somehow look good on him, she had to admit to herself.

Just as she’d said it, sirens began blaring from above – a distant wail, obstructed by the thick walls of the bank’s vault, but clearly police sirens. The grin vanished from the Joker’s face.

“That’s not possible”, he whispered in shock, slowly making his way towards her and the doorway she was standing in.

“Okay, I’ve got a tip for you, from one criminal mastermind to the other”, Harley jested. This was getting better and better. “Next time, you should crosscheck your sources. Not every drunk girl in a bar is drunk.”

His face fell. She took another step towards him, and another, until she was mere inches away from him, the smell of greasepaint and cigarette smoke wafting around her. Her gaze fell onto the ventilation pipes running along the wall behind him.

“You –“

Harley crashed her lips onto his. To her surprise, he didn’t shove her away, but returned the kiss with a passion she hadn’t thought him capable of as he tangled his hands in her hair and she pushed herself into him, backing him against the wall behind. He stumbled backwards, never breaking the kiss, and Harley suddenly felt dizzy and lightheaded for a few heartbeats. She moved her hand downwards, while simultaneously pulling a pair of handcuffs out of her dress pockets. He didn’t even notice as she slowly closed one of the cuffs around his wrist, while her other hand roamed even further downwards – _there_. Her fingers closed around the cold metal in his pockets and she yanked out his gun, simultaneously snapping the second cuff closed around the ventilation pipe, effectively tying him to the wall.

“The second tip is to never get distracted”, she breathed out. He stared at the handcuffs that tied him to the ventilation pipe, half-heartedly rattling it but he knew he’d lost. With a few quick steps into the middle of the room, Harley grabbed the lone play card he’d left on the floor, the little jester dancing on it, and grinned. “You know what, I’ll take your card. As a memory. I’ll think of you when I’m chilling on the beach with the money you stole for me.”

She let the card disappear in her pockets and winked at him. The wailing of the sirens had gotten louder, and it sounded clearly like more than one siren now.

“You tricked me”, he finally stated with a glint of mischief in his eyes. He didn’t seem mad – rather flustered, his green hair was tousled, and his face paint smeared.

“Yeah, and it was pretty easy. Next time, you could put up a little more of a fight.”

She gave him a last grin, waved, and sauntered out of the room. In the doorway, she stopped and turned around, tossing back her hair to look at him.

“Looks like the joke’s on you this time. Come and find me if you’re out of Arkham. Oh, and greetings to your lovely henchmen!”

With that, she walked away, a spring in her step before she climbed the stairs and remembered she was supposed to be a traumatized hostage – and quickly recalled to wipe off half of his face paint that was probably smeared all across her face.

Harley emerged in the bank’s foyer – left alone by the police forces, because she looked like a very distraught hostage – and sneaked out of the staff entrance just as policemen flooded the building. The getaway car was easy to find – a white van, parked right in front of the staff entrance, with three guys in clown’s masks currently being handcuffed by a few very unamused looking policemen at the rear.

Nobody noticed as Harley jumped into the driver’s seat, started the van with the key they’d left in the ignition and accelerated with a fit of manic laughter, the bags of cash rattling behind her.


End file.
